Ted Hughes

NATURE: Hawk Roosting by Ted Hughes

September 2, 2018

I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed. Inaction, no falsifying dream Between my hooked head and hooked feet: Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat. The convenience of the high trees! The air’s buoyancy and the sun’s ray Are of advantage to me; And the earth’s face upward for my inspection. My feet are locked upon the rough bark. It took the whole of Creation To produce my foot, my each feather: Now I hold Creation in my foot Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly— I kill where I please because it is all mine. There is no sophistry in my body: My manners are tearing off heads— The allotment of death. For the one path of my flight is direct Through the bones of the living. No arguments assert my right: The sun [...]

POETRY: Minstrel’s Song by Ted Hughes

January 1, 2014

(Ted Hughes writes about a minstrel who fell asleep in the stable where Joseph and Mary come to rest.) I’ve just had an astounding dream as I lay in the straw. I dreamed a star fell on to the straw beside me And lay blazing. Then when I looked up I saw a bull come flying through a sky of fire And on its shoulders a huge silver woman Holding the moon. And afterwards there came A donkey flying through that same burning heaven And on its shoulders a colossal man Holding the sun. Suddenly I awoke And saw a bull and a donkey kneeling in the straw, And the great moving shadows of a man and a woman— I say they were a man and a woman but I dare not say what I think they were. I did not dare to look. I ran out here into the freezing world [...]